Music and the Mind
by Nymphadora-CullenBAU
Summary: It all started with a phone call. JJ's day off in interrupted by a surprise visit from a certain consulting detective and his brother. Written for the CCOAC Crossover Challenge.


**_This is sort of last minute with the CCOAC Crossover challenge. My first one was JJ and River Song from Doctor Who. This one is Sherlock Holmes from BBC Sherlock and JJ. Sorry it's late; I've had a crazy few weeks getting ready for "The Sound of Music." _**

**_I don't own Sherlock or Criminal Minds._**

**_And don't forget to review if you have a moment!_**

**_Love,_**

**_*~N_CBAU~*_**

* * *

_I think music in itself is healing. It's an explosive expression of humanity. It's something we are all touched by. No matter what culture we're from, everyone loves music. ~ Billy Joel_

It all started with a phone call.

"Hello" JJ groggily answered, still lying in bed.

"JJ, it's Garcia. I need some help here and you're the only one on the team with DoD experience."

JJ sat up. She was having a bit of a lie-in. Will had gone back to work after their honeymoon, but JJ wanted to take a few more days to watch Henry.

"Why not go to the DoD?

"Because I don't want them involved. This guy is just... He's got this vibe that says 'let's keep this in-house,' you know what I mean?"

"What is it?" JJ groaned as she rolled out of bed and moved toward the shower.

"Some guy from the British Government. Holmes. Mycroft Holmes."

…

JJ walked into the BAU's conference room an hour later to find an older gentleman standing by the table. He was dressed in a tweed jacket and dress shirt and pants with leather shoes and an air of importance. He was holding a black umbrella in his hands.

"Jennifer Jareau?" he inquired.

"Yes," JJ replied. "You must be Mycroft Holmes."

The man nodded. "I need to ask you something."

"I don't work for the Depart of Defense anymore," JJ cut in. "Since you last contacted me, I've been returned to my former posting as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

"I know that," Mycroft replied. "It's more of a… personal favor than a state one."

JJ's eyes widened. "Oh," she whispered.

Mycroft walked toward the door. "Coming, Agent Jareau?" he asked.

…

A short drive in a limousine with windows so dark that JJ could only see her reflection, they arrived in a part of DC with mostly warehouses and storage facilities. Mycroft walked down a nearby alleyway toward a simple red door in the side of a brick warehouse. Without looking at JJ, he pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and pulled it open, gesturing JJ inside.

"He's waiting," he said.

JJ nodded, slipping inside the building.

The walls rose high up into an arched ceiling with massive amounts of light filling the open space. Dust motes circled and swirled in the light and the sound of a rubber ball bouncing against concrete filled the silent void and echoed across the space.

JJ looked in the shadows and spotted a figure. He was tall and thin, sporting a dark grey trench coat, dark blue scarf and untidy black hair. His black pants were creased and his leather shoes spoke of more wear than care, as covered in mud and grime as they were.

"Mycroft, I told you not to get the Pentagon involved," the man growled as he continued to bounce the ball. He didn't even look up from his concentrated movements.

"FBI Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau doesn't work with the Pentagon, brother," Mycroft replied in a ton that sounded as though it was _trying_ to be civilized.

"Hrumm," the other man grunted before turning to face JJ and Mycroft. His face was pale, almost snow white in the light of the sun pouring from the upper windows and his cheekbones were almost superimposed on his face. His blue eyes flashed as he looked at JJ.

"I thought you were here on business, Mycroft," the other Holmes called, walking toward the others. "I didn't realize that this was a pleasure trip, too."

"She _is_ my business, Sherlock," Mycroft shot back. "Because of what you did at St. Bart's with that little stunt off the top of the hospital."

Sherlock turned on his heel and stalked off, walking quickly until he reached the next patch of sunlight. He then turned back to the newcomers. "I did that to save lives!" he roared. "Moriarty was threatening to kill them and I had to do something!"

That seemed to shut Mycroft up. He planted his umbrella into the concrete and leaned on it, not saying another word.

Sherlock nodded before glancing at JJ again. "FBI is a new one," he noted dryly.

JJ cleared her throat. "I used to work with Mycroft when I was doing some work at the Pentagon a few years ago."

"But you went back to the Bureau. Why?"

"Well, I liked the hours I had with the Department of Defense," JJ admitted. "Normal 9-5 day, five days a week, but it was so…"

"Tedious?" Sherlock supplied.

Surprised, JJ nodded. "After a while, it became so normal that I wanted something else. Shortly after some… interesting circumstances, I handed in my resignation and returned to the FBI."

Sherlock nodded. "Well, I see that you love your job. There's a small ink stain on the left-hand side of your blouse, which means that you are right handed. There's also a bit of baby powder on your leg. You must have dropped the powder this morning by accident. And now for the rings on your finger." Suddenly, he grinned.

"The one with the topaz has been there the longest and you appear used to its weight. No doubt that it's been there for as long as your child has been alive. He would be about three or four now, judging by the streaks of baby powder on your leg. The more recent ring is the one with the three small diamonds, your wedding ring. I'd say you married your new husband a few weeks to at least a month ago. You also look tan, which makes me believe you've just returned from your honeymoon."

"Y-yeah, that's right," JJ quipped. "But how did you know all that?"

"I observe and deduce, Jennifer," Sherlock answered. "Most people, _normal_ people, don't observe their surroundings, but I know that you and your friends at the FBI have been trained to see people, to observe their quirks and habits and to deduce whether or not they are the perpetrator of your crime." His face broke into another smile.

"I think that will be all, Jennifer," he said. "Mycroft will return you to your office, or to your home, seeing as I've completely taken you away from your day off. Your son should be waking up right about now."

JJ nodded and turned to Mycroft, who quickly opened the door.

"This isn't over, Sherlock!" he yelled.

Sherlock waved him off. "Let the girl go home, Mycroft. She has a child to look after! You wouldn't want her son to be left alone, would you?"

Mycroft glowered, but gestured JJ out the door. But just before she stepped out, Sherlock called for her.

"Jennifer!"

She turned to face him.

His slim-fingered hand was raised in farewell. "Congratulations, and good luck," he intoned.

She nodded. "You too."

Moments later, the door was closed and Mycroft was ushering her to the car.

But as she got in, she swore she could hear the sound of a violin playing.

_What you are, you are by accident of birth; what I am, I am by myself. There are and will be a thousand princes; there is only one Beethoven. ~ Ludwig von Beethoven_


End file.
